


Golden Euphoria

by CityLightLoveAtFirstSight, LovettOrNot



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Umineko, Amnesia, Art Heavy, Baku Min Yoongi | Suga, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Complicated Relationships, Disturbing Themes, Dubious Consent, Embedded Images, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fallen Angel Kim Taehyung | V, Friends to Enemies, Golem Kim Namjoon | RM, Horror Elements, Kumiho Kim Seokjin | Jin, Long, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Qilin Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Semi-Visual Novel, Sorcerer Jeon Jungkook, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-21 15:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14287704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityLightLoveAtFirstSight/pseuds/CityLightLoveAtFirstSight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovettOrNot/pseuds/LovettOrNot
Summary: “Come, come, remember! Try to deny my existence!”23 year old Park Jimin is haunted by the death of his family and the loss of his memories during a mysterious bloodbath 5 years ago. Determined to find the truth, he sets out to the island where it all began.When things can’t seem to make any less sense, he meets a man, Jungkook, claiming to be a sorcerer and his family’s killer. Jungkook forces Jimin to relive the incident over and over again- as long as it takes for him to remember the truth.Image-heavy.





	1. New Day Seeking The Past

Sailing should’ve been second nature to me, but the only sway I felt when I looked into the wind-whipped water was that of the boat as it cleaved through the waves effortlessly. This was my father’s favorite vessel, a remnant of some long-gone war, something I used to beg to get on when I was a child. I spent half of my life on the water and yet nothing could be more foreign to me.

The island loomed in the distance, canopied by the lush green forest that grew on it. Were it not for the dilapidated pier jutting sharply out of the island’s side, there would be no sign that any humans had ever been there. Perhaps it was for the best. No one had been on the island in five years. The island should’ve been forgotten as a whole, with time and nature scrubbing the sins of the past clean.

Everybody told me it was a foolhardy journey from the start, but they didn’t know what it was like to lose eighteen years of memories. Every day was pure anguish, closing my eyes and seeing a flash of my brother’s smiling face, perpetually unable to tell whether it was a memory or my imagination conjuring up a happy moment that should’ve happened. Then there were the nightmares. The screaming that melted into bursts of lightning, pangs of wretched sadness and splatters of red everywhere, warm, sticky, metallic, leaking out of the head of a person beside me. They were always so vivid, terrifyingly lifelike during the night, but during the morning when I wracked my head for more that was all I was left with.

I didn’t fear the spirits that allegedly roamed the island. They were my family. I didn’t fear disturbing the cursed land. I was already cursed. The only thing that put the slightest bit of fear in my shriveled up heart was living without ever finding the truth. It wasn’t just for me. Even if I didn’t remember them, I had a responsibility to lay my family to rest properly.

The only person aboard with me on the ship was the captain, a sprightly old man named Jong-yul. He was built like a barrel, wide and rotund, but neither his age nor his weight served as obstacles to his duties as a one-person crew. He flew around the ship with the strength and vigor of a man many years younger than him, like I was supposed to. He was a close friend to my grandfather Haneul and one of the few people I actually trusted. He was the one who gave me the most information surrounding not only my family, but also the mansion on the island.

That’s why, when we arrived at the pier, I cared enough to go up to the bridge to say goodbye before I departed on my lonesome. I did have surviving relatives that bore the Park name, but only Jong-yul felt anything close to a father figure to me. When he saw me he wasn’t afraid to wrap me up in a crushingly tight bear hug.

“You sure you’ll be alright out there on your own?” Jong-yul asked when he pulled away from me. “I can take you back if it’s too much for you.”

“You know I have to do this.”

Jong-yul’s heavy hand ruffled my hair mercilessly. “You have the fire of your father and your grandfather within you. Don’t let it go to waste.”

With that and my bag on my back, I hopped off onto the creaking pier. I spent some time watching the ship, my only chance of getting off of this island, disappearing into the horizon. Jong-yul would be back tomorrow to pick me up, of course, but the reality of it was that I had nowhere to run for a full twenty-four hours. I looked behind me, to the beaten and weed-ridden brick path that was barely there. There was nowhere to go but forward unless I wanted to get lost in the gnarled and twisted routes between the trees.

If the forest looked lush from a distance, it was teeming with life up close. As I traversed the faded path I noted the constant buzz of cicadas intermingling with the harmonious if random chirps from many different birds. This wasn’t the first time I heard nature’s beautiful song, but it was the first time I could actually remember it. If I concentrated on it, I could swear that there was a melody, a simple whistle, but my memory was too weak to grab it. I continued on.

As I went farther down the path and closer to the site of the mansion, the song that was near inescapable earlier had gone silent. The air was ominous and heavy, probably the reason why birds avoided the area. Little gusts of wind rustled the leaves, providing the only sound aside from my shoes hitting the bricks or crunching against the grass. With enough time, even the wind died down and never picked back up.

Through the gaps in the foliage, I could see the worn dark red brick that made up the mansion. I broke into a sprint, leaping over the roots without breaking my stride. I burst through the thick wall of leaves and emerged into a clearing. Before me stood the Park family mansion, not quite as proud as it had been, but still standing strong and tall against times’ steady assault. It was an odd thing, built beautifully except for one detail that came off as an oversight when it was likely completely intentional- it was lopsided. On the left end the wall was flat, but on the right end a section of the wall protruded and formed what was basically half of a tower. The architecture was distinctly Victorian, from that oddity to the abundance of windows.

Vines clasped the building in a manner that resembled hands, as if the mighty claws of Mother Nature were doing their best to bring it down. However, this part of the sea was notorious for getting tropical storms and this house was built with that in mind. Jong-yul swore up and down that the safest place to be during any storm was there. Even after the death of its builders and the family that annually visited it, the Park family legacy would not fall easily.

There were no trees inside the clearing, but it was still riddled with plant life. The once neat yellow rose garden that took up much of the space in front of the mansion had run wild, bushes spread all along the property. Most of the roses were starting to wilt, but they still had prickles, turning the ‘garden’ into a labyrinth.

Since I had the entire day behind me to investigate, I wasn’t in any particular rush to get to the main building. There was no guarantee other than blind faith that there would be evidence left over from the investigation. It was entirely possible that the police had discovered everything and taken every bit of evidence that could be found. Somehow, when I stopped to free my pants from where it was caught on a thick patch of prickles, I doubted it.

It was slow going and I was sure my pants had holes all along the legs, but before too much time had passed I was out of the maze of bushes and on the doorstep. It was remarkable how the glass had proven similarly resistant as I couldn’t find a single shattered window from what I’d seen while approaching. Before I even considered going inside, I dug into my backpack and took out a flashlight. There were many windows, but there were more inner rooms where the light streaming through would not be enough.

Sucking in a breath to calm my rising nerves, I twisted the handle and crossed the threshold. Something wet dripped onto me from above. I jumped and nearly threw down my flashlight as violent images of red seeped into my vision. The silence was broken by this horrible screeching noise, like television static but worse, cranked up to the highest volume possible. I looked behind me, to the yellow roses, hoping that the brightness would be enough to make the fear subside.

I didn’t know whether it was truly the effect of the flowers or merely my senses coming back to me, but my heartbeat started to slow. Within a minute I had completely calmed down. Whatever fell on my head continued to drip with a distinct, almost hollow plinking noise. It didn’t smell like the sharp iron that blood reeked of, it was just… musty. I turned back around and looked up, hurling mental insults at myself when the clear liquid dripped from the ceiling again. It was water.

I was better than this. If I truly had the Park fire within me like Jong-yul said, it could not be extinguished by such tiny droplets. Three years of struggling with my reality could not go to waste because of a little trauma. People walked into my life saying they could help me, but everything frayed and failed when they really got into the depths of my fractured psyche. Only recollecting the jagged shards of my memory with my own hands would be enough to cure me.

The floor of the mansion was surprisingly well kept as he traversed it, caked brown with dirt and sometimes mud, obviously, but the tiles were all intact. Very few weeds managed to poke out through the tight cracks between them, but even the determined few seemed to be dying. The brittle leaves crushed easily whenever I happened to step on them.

It didn’t take long for me to reach the main hall, where I came across the very first splitting of paths. There were three possible ways for me to continue, a hallway to the left, an identical looking hallway to the right and two staircases leading up to the same platform upstairs. No matter where I went, I’d be foraying into the darkness due to the lack of windows. In fact, it was hard to see much further from where I stood because the light from the windows behind had long since started to fade. I flicked on the flashlight to make sure there wasn’t a fourth path, only to jump slightly at the sight of a face.

It didn’t belong to an intruder; it was another interesting piece of the puzzle that had to be considered even if it didn’t take an active part in the killings. It was an old oil painting, one of those classic paintings that would sell for millions nowadays, especially given the fact that it looked surprisingly well kept. I’ve seen art restoration videos before. Paintings like these often had thick layers of dirt or an old varnish that discolored porcelain whites into yellow-browns, bright and lively reds into unrecognizable darkness and blues into sickly sea greens. That should’ve been the case for this portrait, but it looked as if it had just come off of the artist’s easel.

The half-length portrait was lifelike, painted in the realistic style of the Renaissance, untouched by the more modern ideas such as abstraction and minimalism. Painstaking detail in every corner of the picture culminated in a breath-taking depiction of a young man standing proudly in front of an ambiguous black background. Chestnut brown hair wrapped around his head perfectly aside from a dramatic sweep that parted the hair above his eyes. His wide eyes underset by noticeable eyebags spoke of innocence, but his plump lips beneath his wide nose were set tightly together into a tiny smile that gave a darker edge to his face. He looked like he was only entertaining the idea of being painted, raw condescension rolling from his controlled face and elegant but relaxed posture. It was as if it was an honor for anyone to look at him, much less paint him.

He had his right arm raised above his midsection, just below his chest, while his left was cast off to his side at the same level, open-handed. To further prove the disparity between his angelic look and his dismissiveness, the robes he was swaddled in were black with gold highlights. While they were not dissimilar to regular robes in structure, there were a few odd additions, namely a Chinese-style tabard that wrapped around his shoulders and neck and travelled down, out of the frame, making it impossible to determine how long it was. The tabard was supported by straps halfway down, keeping it close to his body. From the shoulder area of the tabard emerged strips of cloth, most of which hung out of frame except for one, revealing the end was pointed much like a necktie. All over his robes were golden accents that formed an indecipherable pattern, but the part of the tabard over his chest had a very clear design- a butterfly, the Park family symbol.

Beneath the painting sat the name ‘JUNGKOOK’ inscribed into a plaque. When I saw that name, I remembered something.

Old man Haneul supposedly hid away twenty thousand kilograms of gold in gold bars somewhere on the island, easily a trillion won or more even on a bad market day. If it weren’t for that hidden stash all of the buzz surrounding my name would’ve vanished a long time ago. The gold was the only thing the vultures posing as caretakers wanted from me.

When I first washed up onto the shore with seawater still in my lungs they were the first to find me, lazily jogging as if I had chosen to be pushed onto the sand, sputtering and choking. Their crooked faces looked down on me and I reached for them, grabbing desperately at salvation. The thin, wiry pair backed off, leaving the scorching sun in my eyes. I knew then that the world was cruel. Only I could save myself.

I bitterly regurgitated the fluid, head spinning as I clutched at my violently contracting stomach. My throat and lungs burned with an ungodly fervor. I drifted in and out of awareness of my surroundings, caught between my brain telling me I had to do something and my body lulling me to sleep, closing my eyes for me. The next thing I knew, I was on a hospital bed with people enthusiastically yelling for Park Jimin.

The duo that spotted me turned out to be my first cousins once removed, children of one of Haneul’s brothers. They were horrible, ignorant people, complaining that nobody recognized their splendor while they buttered burnt toast with a dirty knife, harping on and on that they should’ve been celebrities even as they retreated into their cheap bungalow half-naked after taking out the trash. Since they were the closest relatives, I fell into their ‘care’, which meant I lived at their house for a while and they tried their best to guilt trip me into giving them the entirety of my inheritance and the location of the gold.

As if I’d ever give their filthy hands something my bloodline had rightfully earned.

Most of the mystery surrounding the gold was where Haneul got it from in the first place. Rumors circulated that the source was magic and that Haneul made a pact with a mysterious Golden Sorcerer named Jungkook and in the process harnessed the power of magic and madness. Haneul himself exacerbated the problem even further by being one of the most avid believers, setting up this portrait and claiming he had painted Jungkook himself. _Yeah, right._

The madness here stemmed from people’s imaginations. It was so easy to be swept away by stories that posed my grandfather as some sort of wild gambler whose bets always turned out on his side or a magician who contacted the Netherworld. All of it was rubbish. Maybe I believed in those tall tales before the incident, but devoid of personal connection and fanciful ideas, there was no doubt in my mind that he was nothing more than a smart businessman.

Beneath Jungkook’s portrait and plaque stood a marble triangular prism with solid gold plating embedded into the front side. Since it sat at a 45 degree angle, it was easy for people to look down and read it. Haneul was never foolhardy enough to give away the location of his gold, even to the members of family who took care of him during the last years of his life. He instead commissioned a painting and made up a riddle that allegedly pointed to his hidden stash.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160373125@N05/39556052690/in/dateposted-public/)

It was a grotesque thing, nonsense perpetrating nonsense, but given its inherently violent nature it could’ve affected the killings in some fashion. The killer could have murdered everyone using the riddle as a guide in some desperate attempt to get the gold, but it was just as likely that it was simply a deranged maniac who slaughtered everyone as the mansion was far from ransacked when the police got there. While they did clean up the crime scenes and bagged whatever evidence they found, the rest of the mansion was basically untouched and entirely free game.

There was no telling where any of the corridors or stairs actually went. The stairs made me wary since the moment I saw them. Even if the house was still structurally stable and the likelihood of me falling through cracked flooring was low, I disliked the idea of being confined to the second floor. There was no one on the island other than me and I didn’t really believe in superstition, but the idea of going upstairs sent unexplainable shivers up my spine. Despite the pep talk I gave myself earlier, I didn’t want to risk having violent flashbacks unless it was absolutely necessary. With that, on a whim, I decided to head down the left corridor.

The corridor I’d chosen turned out to be a long one and past that, utterly bare. Were it not for the cobwebs the walls would’ve been devoid of decorations. Throw in a few peels of wallpaper and flakes scattered on the floor as well as a lack of doors and I was about ready to turn around and go down the other corridor.  Thankfully my flashlight hit something before I could go through with my plan, a pair of wooden doors that gleamed with the light. I rubbed my eyes. That didn’t make sense. Unless… I wasn’t the first person to visit the island in five years. Someone snuck onto the island and maintained certain areas so they could mooch off of free property while I was trapped away in the city. I had to find them. Whoever it was could be tinkering away with stuff that wasn’t theirs, breaking priceless heirlooms that I had never recovered and most of all ruining what little clues I could’ve scrounged up.

I sped up a bit, still examining where I was walking before I charged forward like an idiot. Soon enough the doors were open and I was hit with stale air only made bearable by the faint smell of old books that barely edged out the smell of general dampness. A few swipes of my flashlight confirmed that I had indeed stumbled across the library. Problem was, it was flooded. There were still areas that were accessible, bookshelves with yellowing paper staying mostly out of the water and mud, but the majority of the shelves were tucked away behind the brackish lagoon that churned and bubbled balefully. I had no idea how deep the water went. Most people would try crossing it immediately, but the ground could’ve eroded and made what should’ve been nothing more than a puddle into a watery chasm. Not a risk I was willing to take. There was a door on the other side, after all. If I wanted to take a look at those bookshelves I’d have to take the long way around.

Sticking to the sparse books I could access on this side, I carefully brought out books only to stare at the cover before returning them. I had nothing to work on. Sure, these were all fascinating subjects that an ordinary person could learn something from, but a book dedicated to an Earl’s letters from 1737 was hardly useful and Jules Verne’s _20,000 Leagues Under The Sea_ wouldn’t get me any closer to the water. I went through all of the books, quite literally judging them by the cover, until I picked up a book named _Demian_. The wrinkled cover filled me with anxiety, though I couldn’t tell if it was from a surfacing memory or simply the disturbing face that was printed on it. I opened it up to a random page, hoping to jog my memory, but all that happened was that a piece of paper fluttered out of it. My reaction skills weren’t up to par and I wasn’t able to pick it up before it hit the mud, but what was written on it was still legible.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160373125@N05/26499544977/in/dateposted-public/)

I knew all of these names already, either through Jong-yul or through my own independent research, but seeing evidence of how it all connected together felt like a huge step for me. Yeong-mi stood out like a sore thumb, not only being the sole female child of Haneul, but also having never married throughout her lifetime. The only female blood relative to Haneul aside from my aunt was my cousin Jieun, who apparently had a tomboyish streak for one reason or another.

I delicately folded the paper, hoping that it wouldn’t disintegrate while I stuffed it into my pocket and moved on. Names were nice and I knew what they looked like from pictures, but there was still no association backing my thoughts. They were strangers with my family’s names. I came out of the library with a newfound sense of urgency, eager to follow the other corridor to see if I could scrounge up anything else or even potentially catch whoever was running amok on my property.

Unlike the left hallway whose sole purpose was to lead to the library, there were a myriad of doors on the right, all with their own secrets. I approached the very first door I came upon with glee, turning the knob- only to deflate when the door didn’t budge. Right. The next few doors proved fruitless and the doors after those came back with the same clinking sound. I hadn’t expected to waltz into just any room I wished, but I didn’t expect to be denied an entire wing’s worth of information. That meant I had to find a key somewhere before I could progress in any real fashion.

However, when I turned around to head back to the foyer I caught a glimpse of movement and heard the rustle of cloth. There was no time to waste. I thundered across the corridor, my flashlight’s beam rocking randomly as I ran with all of my might. I nearly tripped on a raised tile but used the stumble to lurch forward faster, reaching the main hall. However, something was off. I wasn’t supposed to be facing the portrait of Jungkook. I looked around me to see that the layout hadn’t changed. I ran straight forward with absolutely no deviations to my path. I didn’t even get to see where the person who ran away went off to and yet I was standing in front of the epitaph. The portrait of Jungkook seemed to be sneering at me, but before I could discern if the painting had truly changed I spun around at the sound of footsteps behind me.

The glint of something in the faint light was the first thing I registered, the next being the laughter of the person holding it. There was no way what I was witnessing was going on. It was nothing more than the work of my delusional brain, warping how I saw reality. It was impossible for someone who looked exactly like Jungkook to appear in front of me flaunting the key I was just thinking about. And yet, no matter how hard I squeezed my eyes tightly or thought of the yellow roses, the hallucination _spoke_ to me.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Jimin.”

The voice was intoxicatingly familiar, nowhere near airy but definitely light, made me want to hear it more with each word even as pure hatred bubbled up in my gut. I knew him from somewhere other than the portrait. Just who was this person who resembled the enigmatic sorcerer, why was he here and… why did he know my name? I forced my eyes open. He was even wearing the same clothes that the portrait Jungkook did, from the long ties that sprouted from the shoulders to the intricate butterfly on the tabard.

“Who are you?”

“I am the Golden Sorcerer Jungkook.” Right before my eyes, I watched as the key he held burst into yellow butterflies that faded seconds after their first moments of life. “You’re looking for the truth. I will give it to you. Let all those on the island hear me: I am the mastermind behind the massacre. I killed your family.”

My thoughts splintered into meaningless babble and action that wouldn’t accomplish anything, my mind shutting down as my body did, allowing the quiet of the mansion to overtake us again. Whenever I strung together words they always fell apart, never held up against his own scrutiny, spinning into a jumble that left me more and more confused until I finally arrived at the most appropriate response.

“How?” 

I knew that anger wasn’t the right response, keeping levelheaded and determining the truth through calm words was, but when that single word came from my throat like a growl I couldn’t help the anger that pulsed through my veins and ran most heavily through my left arm. I wasn’t the type to express my anger in great explosions, instead harnessing it underneath an icy exterior, which was what I was doing now. My first cousins ran like headless chickens whenever I gave them this look, but Jungkook’s smile only grew wider.

With a great flourish he bowed, striking a whole set of nerves I didn’t even think I had. “With magic, of course.” His already grandiose way of speaking read off childishly, almost clown-like with how seriously he took everything. It was a shame he had such a handsome face because I wanted to punch it. “I was even nice enough to let you go free. Don’t you remember?”

“Nonsense. Utter nonsense.” I was talking to myself. I had fallen so far down the hole of trauma that I’d inadvertently summoned up a fictional character whose sole purpose was to torment me. The only thing I sought was truth and my own doubts and fears came into this antagonist, a scornful, mocking joker who purported that a non-answer like magic was better than the bitter truth. I took a deep breath, really sucking in as much air as I could into my lungs, before I pushed it all out. “When I open my eyes, you’ll be gone.”

“That’s cute.”

I hadn’t opened my eyes yet. I was just hearing things. Three. Two. One. I opened my eyes with a triumphant smirk only to flail backwards at the sight of Jungkook’s face nearly pressed against mine. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Therapists were a waste of time, I always said, doctors that _could_ cure me but could just as easily steal my money trying to force me to think in a certain way, like a loveless marriage before I ever got married. Now that the delusions were bad enough that they were talking back to me, I started considering booking an appointment.

“You’ve forgotten.” Jungkook purred. “Allow me to refresh your memory.”

Before I could respond there was the sound of shattering glass. Darkness filled my vision, pouring down my throat and suffocating me until my entire being melted away into the inky black.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160373125@N05/39573598040/in/dateposted-public/)

Sailing was second nature to me, the hypnotic way the waves broke against the prow entrancing me with each new shape in the bubbly foam. This was my dad’s ship, the Sinseong, built using the parts from a decommissioned naval ship. It was the coolest thing ever and I didn’t regret spending most of my youth on it. If possible, I would’ve spent my entire life on that boat.

We’d be reaching the island in a few minutes, but I didn’t really care for it. Over the years my brother, my cousin and I mapped out the island because it was the only thing we were really allowed to do. We could technically hide away in our rooms and use our laptops, but all of our parents frowned on us spending the day with anything to do with technology. They were backwards, antiquated people, but endearingly so. It was a bit strange for us to prance about the forest like little children, me at the ripe age of 18, Jihyun at 16 and Jieun at a whopping 21 years old, but it was a family tradition at this point. We spent most of our lives doing it, so there was no point in stopping.

Speaking of my cousin, she was the one who’d been yelling at me for the past five minutes from the bridge. I heard her all the time, I wasn’t deaf, but if it meant I had to step away from the railing I wasn’t going to do it. The reward for my insolence was Jieun stomping up and grabbing me before I could run. One powerful tug on my ear was enough for my knees to buckle and endless apologies streaming out of my mouth. When she finally let go I gave her a quick compliment to prevent further harassment.

“I like your hair.”

While I picked a random part of her before I had a proper idea of what she looked like, she had indeed changed her hair. Her hair had previously been a simple short middle part, made gorgeous by ridiculous volume that surpassed my already fluffy hair. Now her strawberry blond locks had grown out a bit, embracing the natural spikiness that she had worked so hard to avoid in the past using ridiculous amounts of hair gel. The most prominent change, however, were two additional tresses that now grew on each side of her face, stopping just below her chin.

Despite her masculine appearance Jieun’s critical weakness was compliments, so all thoughts of pummeling my face disappeared when she grabbed one of the tresses and examined it. Score. I guided the conversation steadily from her hair to other conversations, steadily drifting it away from the current situation since I didn’t want her to suddenly remember whatever she was yelling at me about. However, the more we spoke, the more I found that I didn’t remember information that didn’t pertain to the immediate situation. I knew everything about the family I was meeting at the island, who I was traveling with, even that old riddle that sat on that strange marble slab on the mansion down to the finest detail. Why didn’t I remember my favorite cereal or the show Jieun told me I always watched with her and Jihyun? My head started aching but I’d already been admonished by Jieun for ignoring her, to leave now would guarantee a beating. The headache worsened when Jieun asked a question I couldn’t answer.

“How was your graduation?”

I broke out into a cold sweat as I was hit with sudden pain in the gut. I hadn’t eaten anything so it wasn’t food poisoning and I didn’t have any allergies, so it was somehow inexplicably linked to the spots of memory that I didn’t have. That was odd. My memory was always in tip-top shape. As time passed it felt like my stomach was an accordion, mercilessly compressed and decompressed to the beat of a random song, or one of those long buses with connectors making several sharp turns. Jieun was understandably worried, running off when I doubled over, but somewhere through the pained haze I heard the sound of a door creaking as it slammed shut.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160373125@N05/26518177527/in/dateposted-public/)

I was still doubled over when I was forced back into the remains of the mansion, dealing with an influx of information that flooded my mind. Like the transcendent wingbeat of a butterfly, the information faded as quickly as it came, leaving me frustratingly clutching at the fleeting thoughts to no avail. The only thing that remained was the knowledge that it happened, what was done and said, but I no longer had my own thoughts during the exchange. It was completely and utterly useless. It was like watching a silent film where the emphasis was dialogue, the meaning lost to cold, unfeeling fact. I screamed. I didn’t care that Jungkook was still watching me. In fact…

“Put me back in. I need to know what happens next.”

“You sound very eager to make use of my magic when you were a vehement disbeliever before.” Jungkook shrugged and shook his head, once again acting like he was above the entire situation. “What happened to magic being nonsense?”

“It’s only nonsense when you say you killed my family with it.” I very rarely if ever said things with certainty, but a swell of confidence in my chest told me that I didn’t believe in Jungkook. It didn’t matter whether magic was real or not, it only mattered if it was the method used. At the moment Jungkook possessed the ability to take me back to the scene as it was. I’d gladly exploit that for my family, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. “Put me back and I’ll prove it to you.”

Jungkook’s eyes glimmered dangerously and he stalked forward like an apex predator. There was so much potential for him to be a good person, I could feel it, but all he gave was ego. I’d wipe that self-confidence flat off of his face. “What you’re agreeing to is a Sorcerer’s Game.”

“Bring it on.”

Jungkook snapped his fingers and the mansion fell away like pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle, consumed by the black nothingness that lay just behind it. Jungkook and I didn’t move forward, we were pushed by some invisible force. The intense pressure forced me onto my knees while Jungkook stood upright, straight and tall as ever.

“I’ll break you down, chew you up and suck you right down to the bone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our very first co-authored fanfiction.  
> Although this fanfic makes use of some rules, elements and the premise of Umineko, everything will be explained in-story because this is an entirely different plot line with entirely new characters. If this fic gets popular enough we may release an accompanying compendium to further explain details (such as backstories) that couldn't be incorporated directly into the story itself.
> 
> That aside, the epitaph is a legitimate riddle that we'd like to invite readers to attempt to solve. All of the details necessary will come out in the next few chapters. Once all the clues are given, we'll point it out in another end note like this. Of course, readers are also invited to make their own guesses about the murder mysteries.
> 
> Happy hunting and happy reading.


	2. Like A Madeleine But Not Quite

The galaxy in all of its glory stretched out before me, warping and distorting in brilliant flashes of light and nothingness like I was witnessing the birth of an entirely new universe. For all I knew, I was. After the key disappearing trick which I hadn’t even bothered to challenge, I didn’t expect to deal with an even more flagrant display of power. Questions about reality and my understanding of it all popped up as we sped past clusters of stars that looked like konpeito and sugary stardust that blended into the milk of the Milky Way. Did Haneul really meet Jungkook when he was younger and derived such a fortune from him? If magic really did exist, why was it allegedly used to aid in the death of my entire family? Were miracles not magic too? Then, all of a sudden, it clicked.

It wasn’t that I figured out any of the questions. Reality itself clicked into place. Throughout the entire transportation I was being pushed, but now that we arrived it was as if we hadn’t moved at all. It felt like the surroundings had simply changed around us. I rose off of my aching knees, the only evidence that I’d been dragged along rather than instantaneously transported. We were in a… smoking room.

The only reason I called it that was because of the massive glass hookah that dominated the table in the center of the room. At any moment I expected a caterpillar to emerge from somewhere and tell me I was dreaming or make a point about how stupid I was to doubt magic, but no such creature emerged. That left me free to observe the room. Around the table were, at the moment, only two chairs, facing across from eachother though at a great enough distance that the hookah didn’t completely obscure the sitter’s field of vision. They were exquisite plush leather just from sight alone. I couldn’t wait to sit in one of those. Above the table was a chandelier that illuminated the room with a soft yellow light. It was kind of pointless, really, since the decagon-shaped room had windows on each side, staring out into a blank expanse of white that nevertheless somehow provided illumination.

Jungkook took a seat on the left chair, leaving the right for me to sit back in and enjoy. I’d gotten so used to the feeling of a cheap plastic chair that I nearly groaned as my back sank into the firm but yielding backing. Were it not for Jungkook’s intense stare, I’d have gladly taken a nap. Coming to terms with the fact that everything in the universe didn’t work the way I thought it did was quite draining. Even so, I was glad to take part in that Sorcerer’s Game or whatever as long as I could see what happened and uncover the truth. The fact that Jungkook was the catalyst for all of this was the only reason I allowed his frivolous attitude; with anyone else, I would’ve taken a page out of Jieun’s book and socked him in the jaw.

Once we were both settled Jungkook snapped his fingers, the hookah in front of us exploding into golden butterflies before reforming into a chessboard. He wasn’t stupid enough to try to trick me into playing chess instead of revisiting the incident, I knew that, but I couldn’t help but worry when I saw that light blue frosted glass chess pieces were materializing out of nothing, all in proper order. However, before I could complain (mainly because I was bad at chess) Jungkook leaned forward and stared intently, moving the pieces with just his mind, rapid fire moves _and_ responses. For all intents and purposes, he was playing blitz chess by himself.

However, before he had the chance to complete the game, he leaned back into his chair with a self-satisfied grin. One glance at the board was enough to see that it was not only utterly discordant but confusing itself.. For one, there were only thirteen pieces in total, the rest stolen away during the tempest and forgotten, but the pieces themselves had changed. Frosted glass had given way to constructs of pure white and black light. I was never fond of chess or fairy chess, but neither had such strange pieces as this.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160373125@N05/27950726938/in/dateposted-public/)

On Jungkook’s side rested the higher half of available pieces: his King, a Queen, a rook and four pawns. On my side, white, I possessed my King, two bishops, two rooks and one knight. Both of us were in highly precarious positions, with Jungkook focusing more on defense while I seemed to be all out offensive. Within a few more moves, one of us would fall prey to checkmate. I just had to make sure that it wasn’t me.

“Before we begin, let us set the stakes, shall we? If I win, you become my slave forever. Furniture, if you will. If you win, the magic ceases and you are free to make use of what you learnt.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course someone as egocentric as him would demand something as extreme as ownership of another human being- if I could even call him a human. There was still the chance that I had been exposed to something hallucinogenic such as a wild plant that I hadn’t noticed in the dark confines of the library, or afflicted by a terrible allergy I failed to remember. Whatever it was, it seemed to be helping me piece together what little I could scrape from my mind and that was enough.

“I accept.” I rubbed my hands, perhaps a bit too eagerly, burning when I stopped. “Let’s start already.”

“Now, let the game begin.”

The pieces all faded and in an instant, I wasn’t staring at a chessboard anymore. It was almost as if I’d booted up an old handheld gaming system, staring down at a roughed out, pixilated overworld with little detail aside from abundantly clear icons.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160373125@N05/41019066424/in/dateposted-public/)

Were it not for the way the waves hypnotically spread the water along each tile I would’ve assumed it was a joke, a low quality rendering to put me off-guard, since Jungkook’s magic was capable of what seemed to be so much more. I tossed a questioning stare at Jungkook, who refused to answer me as he stared off to the side, disinterested, practically inviting me to fiddle around with the map as I wanted. The first place I wanted to see was the mansion, the red-bricked icon at the center. While I was examining the small details on the incredibly low resolution, I jumped when I realized that the image was getting closer- zooming in.

Anyone who played around with the zoom function would have basic knowledge of what resolution was, colored dots making up an image, but the map had broken that rule effortlessly. Where I expected square blocks of color I saw more and more detail, as if each pixel was multiplying, unfurling before my eyes. By the time it stopped, I was looking at a wall, breathtakingly lifelike, red brick hewn from stone, proudly gleaming in the sunlight; it was the wall of the mansion years ago, when it wasn’t besmirched by the weather and the savage crusade of time. My heart thumped with glee when I wordlessly commanded the map to move to the door, hair standing on end when it responded to my thoughts.

Given the capabilities of the map the first thing I did was experiment, haphazardly trying whatever functions I could think of, more often than not staring at the pitch black inside of the wall while Jungkook smirked unhelpfully. Before too much time had passed I’d wrested control, flying the view freely throughout the mansion, through walls and past empty halls looking for signs of what I and my family left behind. During my inspection it was impossible not to notice the portrait that was untouched by time, Jungkook’s painting. I was right to think that the portrait was a little bit too immaculate for its age, as it hadn’t changed throughout the years, if the depiction was to be trusted.

“It’s a lovely picture, isn’t it?” Jungkook said suddenly. “You could stare at the real thing instead. I wouldn’t mind.”

Pervert. I rolled my tongue on the inside of my cheek, stopping myself from saying what I thought. Well, whatever. As long as he let me fill my quota of what the mansion looked like, I’d deal with any of the abuse he could possibly throw at me. The mansion was divided into three floors and a basement.

The highest floor was dedicated solely to old man Haneul’s study, filled with weird occult stuff like skulls, goblets and candelabras. Given how much crap he surrounded himself with, it was no wonder he believed in magic. Had Jungkook shown him the same things? Had my grandfather beaten Jungkook at his own game and gotten rewarded for it? There was only one way to find out, but that would come later.

The second floor was reserved for the people who directly lived at the mansion as caretakers to Haneul, Uncle Sang-cheol and Aunt Hyun-sook. Jieun stayed with them whenever she visited but lived and studied abroad. It was impossible to infer either of those facts from what I’d seen since the mansion was devoid of life at the moment and it was unlikely that Jungkook had any interest in giving me information out of the blue. The sole conclusion was simple: seeing the house awakened memories that were nearly scrubbed away five years ago. Hope wormed itself into my heart.

The ground floor was all-purpose, housing not only the guest rooms and staff quarters, but the kitchen, dining room, library and various other recreational spaces. Of course, it also housed the painting of Jungkook and the epitaph. Needless to say while I was exploring that floor I avoided the painting like the plague, just in case Jungkook had the off feeling that I was actually attracted to him. Nobody could deny that he was handsome, rocking sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw, but his attitude was a problem.

There wasn’t much to say for the basement as it contained nothing but a boiler room, so I moved onto the chapel, which offered a similar experience. It was just a chapel with pews and an altar at the front. The very last landmark that seemed interesting was the fountain behind the mansion. Given its size it would’ve been an oddity already, but the massive structure had statues standing on a dish in the middle, five different deities sculpted out of stone each with their own vases, pouring out water into the pool below.  All in all, a wealth of information.

Jungkook sensed that I’d finished my examination and conjured up little images of me and my family, almost chibi but not quite, 2D sprites that meshed well with the overworld-like aesthetic the fully zoomed out map gave. It was interesting that my naturally black hair had apparently been bleached pale white during that time and I certainly didn’t expect that I’d be wearing such a glittery bomber jacket. I noticed that Jungkook’s and my images were both taller than everyone else’s- probably a poorly hidden chess analogy where we were both kings- but the height difference between us was still abundantly clear. Cheeky bastard probably did that on purpose to piss me off. Darting away from the infuriating detail, my eyes scanned the faces of the remaining eleven.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160373125@N05/39929080630/in/dateposted-public/)

I skimmed over the faces of my assorted family, Jihyun, father, mother, Aunt Yeong-mi as well as Jieun and her parents, but the last four drew a complete blank where everyone else was simply blurred. They couldn’t be family, since there was no mention of any other relatives present on the island when the massacre took place. Two smartly dressed young men in uniform I easily wrote off as servants, but the little girl and the elderly woman raised suspicion the likes of which I hadn’t felt before. Perhaps the vaguely threatening hook-nosed woman was indeed the culprit. I pointed to the four of them.

“Who are these people?”

“My, my. You don’t remember the servants? Even when one was fond of you? What a heartless man.”

Servants? Including the woman and the girl? It was easy enough to ignore Jungkook’s teasing remarks, quickly getting to the real meat of the issue- information. The girl was only about ten years old, which meant my family either endorsed child labor or she was simply a relative of one of the servants. Of course the last choice was the more reasonable one, especially since there were three choices, two big brothers and one grandmother.

“You can call me heartless when you stop saying you killed my family.”

Jungkook’s smile widened. “I’ll have fun breaking you yet.”

When Jungkook finished his sentence, he scattered the pieces about the map, breathing life into them as he did so. I watched as each one went about their business as if they hadn’t been birthed seconds ago. Since I had no point of reference for where I should be looking or who I should be suspicious of, I went with the one person I could trust to escape alive at the end: me. To my surprise, I was able to control myself, not only seeing out of my own eyes but feeling the warmth of the sun against my skin, smelling the soft scent of lavender from my dear sweet mother Jung-hee as she held me in a hug.

On paper, it seemed perfect. I could ask Jungkook if he could let me stay in this simulation forever, surrounded by my happy family. But… I didn’t think like my past self did. I forgot tics and habits that should’ve been patterned into my brain by now, like the way my mother’s hands were always delicately clasped when she wasn’t doing anything else like reading Amos Oz’ _A Tale of Love and Darkness_ , or the way Aunt Yeong-mi always snarled the letter ‘S’. It also went without saying that they were already dead.

Pushing the thought aside, I was able to reaffirm what I already knew about this event: the family was gathering to have an annual conference. Of course, the conference part only concerned the parents who were using the excuse of a family reunion. The longer I spoke with people, however, the more I realized that things were slipping past me. If I talked with Jieun and Jihyun while walking up to the mansion, mother and father were discussing something on the beach while Aunt Yeong-mi was off doing her own thing. Even when I stopped controlling myself, letting the game fill in what I would do flawlessly, I was only observing the dock area. Jieun’s parents and the servants were no doubt mucking about the mansion, both groups perfectly capable of planning out the murder while I was distracted. There was one glaring issue I saw.

There were too many people.

I was terrible with names and faces, perhaps even before the incident. I would ask a person their name, forget about it five seconds later and the cycle would continue at least three times more before I had it down. Not only did I not know what any of my relatives were like aside from the few traits I could attach to their faces, now I had to learn four more identities? It was a recipe for disaster. I’d be mistaking one person for another and the board would collapse right on me. I _did_ see a possible solution, however, and it was right underneath Jungkook’s portrait.

“Let me guess,” I said, rubbing my chin. “The murders are going to be patterned after the epitaph, right?”

“Correct. I’d give you a medal for figuring that out on the first day, but it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“Skip to the first twilight.”

Jungkook blinked a few times. I could only imagine how confused he felt, having someone take a look at an incident and all of the background information that it had packed into the introduction, only to skip it all mercilessly. If I had any chance of solving the mystery, I couldn’t treat these people as my family. They were merely representations of the truth. I told myself that, but the pain in my chest didn’t subside. I was starting to learn about them again and the very first reaction I had was to allow four of them to die. How badly did those five years change me? I was a paradox. Too cold-hearted, rejecting everyone who tried to come close to me, putting the thought of my family as corpses first and foremost. Too soft-hearted, lonely, desperately clinging to the past so that it could give me closure.

Jungkook grumbled incoherently but did as I asked, waving his hand and shifting the daytime into night. Everyone had retreated back into the mansion at this point. However, as soon as midnight struck the entire board went completely black. I couldn’t see where any of the figures were, but it was clear that it hadn’t just shut off or suffered some kind of magical power outage. Jungkook paused. “It goes without saying, but a brutal murder is happening right now. I hope you’re happy that you don’t know why.”

With a brief snarl he continued on, bringing the sun back over the island. I could no longer see what every figure was doing at any given time except for mine. I could understand the reasoning behind it, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Every person, including myself, would have an alibi about what they were doing from the hours of 12AM to whenever the crime was committed. I’d just have to piece them together and find contradictions where they lay. Despite the fact that I’d skipped the entire day, I had vague recollections of playing a card game with Jihyun and Jieun, who were sleeping in the room with me. Since we played long into the night I ruled them out instantly. A hasty decision, but surely my demure little brother and sensible cousin would never consider murdering anyone in cold blood?

The first sign of trouble came early, when I was the first one up, staring out of the window at the yellow roses in full bloom. They were absolutely gorgeous, unlike those half-wilted husks that blighted the land in front of the mansion in the present. It was the calm before the storm. Even though I braced myself, I jumped at the sound of panicked knocking coming from the door. The sound was so crisp and loud that it actually woke Jihyun up while I sped toward the door. When I opened it, I stared at my ragged-looking mother, her usually long loosely tied hair pinned up into a messy bun, her already gaunt face looking even slimmer with soft fear. Her doll-like physique was shivering, as if any moment she’d shatter. I was drawn into that moment to the point that I nearly forgot I was playing a game with Jungkook.

“Children, stay inside.” Her soft voice quivered. “There’s an emergency. Lock the door and don’t let anyone in except for me and your father.”

“What happened?” I felt sick to the stomach and excited all at once, eager to inspect the crime scene and find out who died without really wanting to see it.

Mother looked past me, worriedly staring at Jihyun’s slowly stirring form. She dropped into a whisper. “Don’t let your brother know. His heart’s weak enough as it is. All of the servants are dead.”

The moment I thought ‘Pause’, time froze within the gameboard. Everything was black and white and at this distance I could see every wrinkle in my mother’s face. I shook myself free of my piece and looked at Jungkook curiously. My plan was to find out which family members would die with the intent of rewinding and seeing who interacted with them before they were murdered. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that all of the servants could be murdered in one fell swoop. However- I didn’t really care for them. I flipped my thinking around a bit before an idea struck me. I didn’t need to know about the servants. Jungkook gave me a convenient way of whittling down people for no apparent cost. I could just skip to the end and see who my available culprits were.

“Skip to the sixth twilight, or just before that.”

“I know what you’re doing, you know. You’re not slick.” Jungkook went past miffed now, his face and no doubt the rest of his body tensed with rage. Maybe I tried to abuse the system a little too much. He offered a disturbing smile with his face still tensed. “I was nice enough to give you only two puzzles to solve and you want to skip it all? That’s not how the game works. Tell you what,” He waved his hand over the board again, advancing it to the next day. “You don’t need any context to solve this one. Solve the puzzle of the second twilight or lose automatically.”

I gulped. Yep, definitely pushed it way too hard there. I scrambled to get back into my piece, surprised when I came face to face with a… door? It was wooden, probably oaken, the doorknob looked alright and oh my god there was blood trickling from underneath it. On the brink of hysteria I threw my head around, trying to find someone else, but I was the only one in the vicinity. I paused and took a deep breath. I didn't have to focus on the blood. I shouldn't focus on the blood. What was important was that I held a key. I briefly thought about screaming and gathering everyone, but I realized that this was the perfect time to examine the scene of the crime. I unlocked the door first, confirming that it was locked to begin with, before trying to push it open. Even though I unlocked it, there was one more blockage. A chain lock. Just as I was about to yell, I noticed that everything had gone black and white. Time was frozen even though I didn’t call for it. I felt hands on my shoulders and I was pulled _through_ the door.

Jungkook did that, finally moving his piece in the board instead of forcing me out into the smoking room, gesturing to the horrible sight of the bed. The sharp, metallic odor of blood forced itself down my throat as I came to terms with how much there was. The normally pristine white sheets were ruined and stained with an unnatural crimson, spreading out in a circle like a bloody lagoon. Only the corner of the bedsheet stood out, temporarily dyed a light brown. It was terrifying, but not as much as the corpse that lay atop it.

With a look of horror frozen on her face, eyes wide open but unseeing, fully in the embrace of death... was my aunt Hyun-sook. Her hair was down, the fiery red mane of hers enveloped in the darker blood beneath her. On her chest was a gaping wound that could come from nothing other than stabbing. A door nearby creaked open and I was treated with a view into the adjacent bathroom, where Uncle Sang-cheol sat in a bathtub full of murky blood-tainted water. His throat was slit, an incredibly ugly gash marring his neck. My hands couldn’t stop shaking. Surely nobody in my family harbored this much hatred for their own blood. It had to be an outside interference. Just not Jungkook.

I looked toward Jungkook for guidance about what was supposed to be happening. He lazily pointed toward the front door, which I found was closed and locked again. The area around it no longer held any evidence of the brutal murder. When I looked back at him, Sang-cheol and Hyun-sook were still alive, sitting on the bed. They always had stressed, pinched faces, Hyun-sook especially, but now it went past that. They were likely still recovering from the news that four of the servants had been murdered, so I couldn’t blame them.

Sang-cheol was much in the same vein as my father, stocky men with wide shoulders and a taste for facial hair, but the key difference between them was how well they dealt with their age. My father chose to embrace the greying of his hair, proudly showing off the beard that had swallowed up half of his face, the spitting image of a gritty sailor who had started to get on in years. On the other hand, his brother tried everything to stop the march of time, from dyeing his hair to keeping his beard to a strict length, just past the point of stubble.

Hyun-sook, on the other hand, usually wore a messy if fashionable ponytail. Now it looked less like a ponytail and more like an absolute mess of frayed hair. She was in the middle of aggressively wiping off the thick makeup she always wore, face stuck in a grimace. On the counter in front of her sat her squarish glasses that likely weren't prescription. From what I’d heard from Jieun while we talked on the pier, she had the habit of abusing the servants. Neither of them were particularly good people or attentive parents.

“So,” I started. “What’s the puzzle?”

“For now, just watch.”

Time resumed in the game, though at a high speed, most of the meaningless chatter practically cut out of the couple’s exchange since the words flew faster than light. It went back to normal speed when Hyun-sook left the room, saying that she had to speak with someone, slipping a brass key into her pocket. After a brief interval of only fifteen minutes or so, she returned to the room and made the bone-chilling discovery of her husband's still twitching corpse sat in the bathtub. Barely any time had passed before she herself had passed away, blood soaking the sheets and trailing off to the door. Not long after there was a commotion outside, which just so happened to be my in-game self coming across the room. I knew instantly what the core problem of the puzzle would be as the door caught with a dreadful _clink_ on the chain lock. Other people gathered. It took the assistance of the others and a chain cutter to get through the lock, during which time nobody had exited the room. Before the would-be investigators could step foot into the room, time stood still again.

“I see.” I sighed. “I know how these locks work. You can only set them from the inside.”

Jungkook nodded appreciatively, at which point I wasted no time in trekking over to the windows, which were the most obvious solution. If you couldn’t go through the door, obviously the windows would be the next best route. I tutted when I realized that the windows had also been locked similarly; although they weren't actually chain locks, their locks functioned in the same way, only set from the inside and couldn't be set otherwise.

Next stop was the bathroom, although the door was, bizarrely enough, locked. Taking inspiration from Jungkook, I waltzed through the door. The door could be locked from the inside with a simple push button or locked from the outside with a key. Ignoring the fetid scent of death that rose from the water, I searched for a possible explanation, even hidden tunnels or such, but unless the murderer was a peculiar water-breathing contortionist who escaped through the toilet, they hadn’t escaped through here. There were signs of a struggle from the gleaming wet floor and uncapped shampoo pouring uselessly into the mess, but there were no signs that he had been transported there. More than likely he was killed there.

Returning to the main room, I stepped over broken shards of a teacup (just more signs of a struggle) and I gestured to Jungkook. “I suppose you want me to explain everything about this murder. Let’s start with the murder weapon.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Jungkook shook his head and crossed his arms, much to my surprise. “All you have to do is prove that I didn’t do it. Isn’t my magic wonderful?”

“What? How am I supposed to prove that you _didn’t_ do something?”

“Figure it out.”

From the beginning it seemed impossible, not only the murder itself but the way in which I’d have to go about it- if something didn’t happen, there would be no clues that lead to it. Going by that I could say that the absence of clues proved my point, but my amnesia spat in the face of that thought. Spontaneous memory loss didn’t invalidate the life I lived, even if it felt like it did. Confronted with endless possibility, there was one way I’d inadvertently been using. I was gathering evidence that something specific had happened. That’s right. I only needed to prove that something else had happened in place of Jungkook’s magic. I didn’t even need a specific murderer in mind.

The only question now was how the nondescript murderer escaped.

“Well, the first thought that passes through my mind is that only a stranger could do something this… vile.” I refused to look at my aunt’s body. “And it isn’t you. An unknown Person X is on the island, the same culprit behind the servants’ deaths.”

“You really trust your family that much?”

“Do you have evidence proving that my family would do this?”

Jungkook backed down with a pointed ‘Tsk’, but in reality I wasn’t all that confident in my answer. There was always that chance that the people who were supposed to matter the most were just like my caretakers, greedy and uncaring for any moral standard. In fact, there would be a simpler solution than one I’d be suggesting. If the culprit were a family member, all they had to do was talk and they’d gain entry into the room. As much as possible, though, I wanted to preserve their innocence unless absolutely necessary.

I sidled up to the window again and traced my finger over the spotless windowsill, pretending to see if there was dust when I was really looking down at the ground through the window. We were on the second floor, right next to a thick drain pipe, which meant I didn’t have to claim that the culprit had access to something ridiculous like a grappling hook obtained from heaven knows where. I gathered up strength in my mind along with air in my lungs and let loose the crackpot theory that I’d somehow placed my bet on.

“During the fifteen minutes Aunt Hyun-sook was out, she left the door unlocked and accessible to anyone, including Person X.”

“I’m afraid not. She locked the door behind her and did not unlock it for anyone other than herself.”

Drat. The easy line of reasoning was blown out of the waters pretty quickly. Then again, it did lay some credence to the innocence of my family. The image of any of my family members crawling up the wall like a disturbing spider was seven kinds of ridiculous and the few unknowns who could’ve done it in their stead, the two male servants, were already dead. Person X had one avenue of entry remaining.

“In the period of time between my aunt leaving and coming back, was the window at any point unlocked?” Jungkook flinched, causing me to redouble my efforts, spearheading my attack on the sole weakness of the closed room. “Person X, either through luck or observation, must have known that my aunt was gone and used that timing to hit my uncle while he was most vulnerable. Person X made quick work of him in the bathroom and waited for his next victim to come around."

Jungkook recoiled, eyes darting around the room as if he were trying to piece together some argument to refute me, but for all of his cockiness and confidence in his magic he couldn’t provide a single piece of evidence, nor a single word. I surged toward him, fearlessly locking eyes with him. My smile was utterly triumphant, dragging the corners of my mouth high up my cheeks.

“They waited until Hyun-sook came back. When they heard the door opening, they came out, and bang!” I mimed stabbing, aiming my imaginary knife right over Jungkook’s heart. “One of them knocked a teacup over in the struggle. Person X pushed her onto the bed and killed her there.”

A thought crossed my mind, one that had to do not only with the unusual feature of the bathroom door, but with a detail I'd overlooked until then: the matter of the key. I silently approached my aunt’s body and muttered small apologies as I reached into the pocket of her plaid dress. As I'd expected, there was no trace of they key i was looking for. It was exhilarating to solve a puzzle that was meant to stump me, especially when it meant that I now had a sizable chunk of the truth within my hands. I’d successfully figured out how two of my relatives died. If all of Jungkook’s puzzles were this easy, I’d be regaining my memory in no time. But that would be later on. For now, I had to hammer the nails into the coffin.

“As for the closed room, the murderer never left. It would make no sense for them to leave when there were still many other people who could catch them. They locked the windows, locked the door and searched my aunt’s body for something they could use. They found the key and took it to make sure that nobody could enter. They hid themselves away in the bathroom with the only key.”

Jungkook gasped as pain wracked his face. His breaths became deep and ragged, as if I’d truly driven him into a stifling coffin or hammered a stake into his chest. Just as that happened, then came thunder, deafening booms that erupted literally out of the blue sky. Sunlight still streamed the window and there was not a single drop of rain to be seen. That… was unsettling, to say the least.

“That’s not thunder.” Jungkook wheezed before disappearing.

Alright, _that_ wa _s_ far more unsettling. Whereas the calm and collected Jungkook of the past would have burst into clouds of luminescent butterflies, Jungkook had now simply faded away. It didn’t feel like it had anything to do with what I had accomplished, either. He wouldn’t be kneeling to a little bit of ego checking. What did the confident Sorcerer fear more than losing? Back to the smoking room I went, prying my eyes off of the board. My legs were stiff from sitting for so long. Still, I found the source of the ‘thunder’ quite easily. An unknown spectator was clapping, intruding on our game.

“L-Lord V, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Jungkook looked and sounded legitimately panicked. It was warranted. Oh god, it was warranted.

Standing just taller than Jungkook was Lord V, who nonetheless basked in confidence, an overpowering presence that overshadowed everyone else’s. Dark ringed eyes, whether from eyeshadow or just by virtue of who- or what- he was, stared out, rooting me to the spot. He approached with ease, his dominating aura only increasing as he got closer. With how slowly he was going, I got more than a good look at him.

He was plain, but not overly so, thin but quite muscular, eyes that made me want to look away but drew me in constantly... He wore a loose flame patterned jacket that really only covered his shoulders, arms and back, showing off the ‘clothing’, if one could call it that, that only served to emphasize his great physique. Red dragon-like scales crept up from just above his crotch, spreading over to his sides before stopping just underneath his pecs. Sinfully tight black pants covered his legs before they sank into proper plated greaves which were decorated at the toes to look like wicked talons. I honestly couldn’t tell what he was supposed to be- dragon? Phoenix? Demon? Any of those were intimidating in their own right.

“Who is this human?” V’s voice rang out, deep in a way that made me shiver. It was like each of his words resonated right through my skin and rattled my bones. “He seems tenacious.”

“His name is Jimin. I have history with him.” Jungkook turned to me and joined my side. “Jimin, this is Lord V. He’s a fallen angel and one of the strongest people around.”

No matter how much my heart hammered, no matter how many waves of fear that washed over me, my mind wouldn’t shut up about my goal, something I actually appreciated for once. I couldn’t be distracted with more nonsense and people who would make no difference in my life. If V had any intention of messing with my game, I’d go through him myself to make sure he didn’t muddle with the truth.

“That’s nice.” I spat. “How about we get back to the game now?”

Jungkook looked at me in bewilderment while V laughed heartily. V’s shuddering shoulders knocked aside his jacket so it was hanging off. Geez, how prone to flirting was this guy that it showed through his laughter of all things?

“I have no intention of interfering.” V said. “I can tell you want him for yourself, so have at him. If you fail, however, he’s free game.” He licked his lips. “Here’s an offer for _you_ , Jimin. I am very generous. If you find yourself in a hopeless situation, reach out for me. I’ll grant your every wish and so much more. All you need to do is give yourself up to me.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with contempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late updates, everyone. Real life caught up with the both of us. There's also the matter of the art, which more often than not changes what we already had written. Nonetheless, it's a great experience. Any and all support for our work is highly appreciated.
> 
> That being said, the real mystery starts next chapter. Jimin may have solved the 2nd twilight, but the 1st will be available for all to solve before Jimin tries his hand at it.
> 
> Happy hunting and happy reading.


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